The Prince of Haven
by Darth Melly
Summary: PreTPL A young Damas fears for his ailing father, for he doesn’t feel ready to take his place on the throne. In his wanderings outside the Palace walls, what if he finds that his father’s illness is more sinister than everyone suspects? RE-EDIT.
1. Discontent

**Summery:** [Pre-TPL] A young Damas fears for his ailing father, for he doesn't feel ready to take his place on the throne. In his wanderings outside the Palace walls, what if he finds that his father's illness is more sinister than everyone suspects?

**Author's Notes:** I always had a soft spot in my heart for Damas; he was such a strong and impressive character in Jak 3. So I thought I would give my interpretation of how the "sand king" grew from an uncertain young boy to the strong and effective leader we all love.

For those of you who read my other Jak and Daxter story, this doesn't have any connections to it. So any new readers don't have to go read my other story to understand this one. You may see that this chapter is much shorter than my Darkness Fades story; this is because I am trying a more direct approach to writing, instead of detailing every little aspect. Maybe later I'll start with longer chapters… we'll see. Well, I hope I did alright, and I hope you all enjoy!

**UPDATE:** I'm going through and editing these chapters for now, and working on the next one, been a long time, I know, but I remembered why I liked this story just recently. :) Hope people will still like to read it lol.

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_**The Prince of Haven: Chapter One, Discontent.**_

The people of Haven looked so small from the Palace. From the birds-eye view could be seen the many people milling about their normal day activities. It was strange to look down on so many people, knowing that you had never met, nor probably ever would meet, any of them. It made a person realize how small and insignificant they were. Every person below him had their own lives and concerns, most would never leave a mark on the world.

Damas couldn't help but envy them, for they had simple, humble lives that would never put much pressure on them. It would be a relief to be among them, to never have to make decisions that affected the lives of everyone in the city, to only have to worry about things that concerned his own life…

"Prince Damas, your father wishes to speak to you in the throne room," a voice broke through his musings.

Looking away from the large window before him, Damas looked to his trusted guard. Maddux had been trusted as his personal body guard since he had been old enough to walk. His was a big, burly man, and tended to be rather quiet, but Damas liked him just the same. When he did have something to say it was usually blunt, but right to the point. Damas admired him for it, for the members of the council always spoke in circles and half-truths.

Damas thanked Maddux politely then lead the way to the king.

His father sat on the throne, obviously just ending a meeting with his generals. The Metal Heads had been sighted moving again, and the king wanted to be ready for any possible assault on the city. King Theron was well known for his love of the city, and those who inhabited it. He would never risk being unprepared for an attack on his city.

"My son," Theron greeted him merrily, rising from his seat.

"You wished to speak with me, father?"

"Yes, yes, right to business, my boy?" Theron laughed, "That's an outstanding quality in one so young. A matter has come up concerning diplomacy with one of our neighboring cities. I will be leaving for Kras City in a week's time, and I thought I would leave the day to day tasks of running the city to you."

"To me?"

"Don't look so shocked, my son, you will be king someday. You are seventeen years old, and I think it's about time for you to take a more active role in governing the city. You don't have to answer me yet, just think about it for a few days," Theron wrapped an arm around his young son's shoulders.

An attendant interrupted the conversation and whispered to King Theron.

"Forgive me Damas, but I must run. The City Council is waiting for my debriefing on the Metal Head situation. Think about what I said."

Like most conversations with his father, this one was short and rushed. Theron was out the door quickly, as well as his attendants. The throne room was empty in a matter of seconds, leaving just Damas and Maddux. Damas didn't mind, you didn't grow up in the Palace and not understand the many responsibilities of the King. Theron was constantly on the move, dealing with the concerns of the city and council, as well and keeping tabs on the Metal Head threat. Damas admired his father and his dedication, but he didn't know if he had it in him to do all the jobs that was required of a king.

Damas was astounded at his father's request. He couldn't be serious, could he? Theron couldn't possibly leave him in charge of the city for a few days. What if something went wrong? What if the Metal Heads launched an assault in the time that his father was gone?

He pushed the negative thoughts out of his head; he could understand his father's reasoning. He would be king someday…whether he felt ready for it or not…

Taking a deep breath, Damas pushed all thoughts of the future from his mind once and for all. He was stressing himself out, and it wouldn't do him any good.

_Maybe I should get away for a while_, the thought came unbidden to his mind.

It was a small idea, but as he thought it, Damas couldn't help but feel excited at the idea. He never really got to go out to the city, unless one counted the times he went to the council chambers with his father, but never on his own. How good it would feel to be out of the Palace and all the protocol that pertained to it. To be able to walk down the street without people bowing to him or saluting him? To only be known by a name, not a title? The more he thought about it, the more it sounded appealing.

His hopes were crushed when he thought deeper, for reality kicked in. He was a young prince of Haven, and therefore not allowed outside the Palace walls without an escort. King Theron was known for his hands-on technique when working with the people of Haven, but the council certainly didn't agree with him. The council was stuck in the past, thinking that the governing parties should stay separate and above those they ruled. Though Theron didn't agree with them, he still had to keep on their good side. If Damas was caught "slumming," as the council saw it, it wouldn't reflect well on his father.

_More pointless dreams,_ Damas thought as he walked from the empty throne room.

Damas's days were usually spent in lessons concerning many different topics, from geography to etiquette, but today he couldn't force his mind to focus on what his tutor was saying.

His teacher was an older man and a chronicler for the city council, with a temper shorter than his stature. After not extracting the correct answer from the young prince, he slammed down his large book and cursed the wandering minds of the youth. After apologizing profusely, Damas tried to get a handle on his rebellious mind.

Restlessness was a new feeling to Damas. Inside the Palace there was always something to do, but he no longer felt content with his surroundings. The rest of the lessons for the day went slower than he ever thought imaginable, leaving him with an agitated feeling by the end of them.

By the time dinner rolled around, Damas was having a hard enough time keeping still. Sitting in an uncomfortable chair for dinner didn't sound like the greatest way to end his irritation from the day. Feigning fatigue, Damas skipped dinner and went to his private chambers to be alone. He didn't want his newfound discontent alerted to his parents, who had enough to deal with as king and queen.

Tossing himself on his large bed, Damas let out a large sigh. The sense of accomplishment he usually got from the day was noticeably absent. Whatever new mindset was taking over had robbed him of his day's satisfaction. What was coming over him that made him feel so discontented?

He knew the answer, just as he knew a way to sate his need for something different in his life. Still not being able to sit still, Damas moved to his large window. The sun had started to set in the west, giving the city a reddish glow that seemed almost poetic. Slowly the many lights within the city started to glow, rivaling the many stars that had started to appear. Though there weren't as many people in the darkening streets as there was during midday, many people still were milling around. Again the need to be among them drew at Damas.

The desire was too strong to ignore.

Moving to his closet, Damas pulled out some clothes that would be seen as normal for an average teen. Changing from his nicer attire, he stashed them in their rightful spot. Pulling an old hat from the closet as well, Damas hid his blonde tendrils from sight, which, hopefully, would make it harder for people to recognize him.

Inspecting himself in the mirror, Damas thought that his disguise would work, for he hardly recognized himself. Damas' heart beat uncontrollably as he moved to the window and pushed it open. The wind howled this high above ground, making the situation seem surreal. Climbing down the roof to the service walkway, he couldn't help but feel excited.

His heart beating profusely, Damas climbed into one of the service elevators. The old elevator groaned loudly as it started up, convincing him that he was going to be caught. His fears seemed to be unfounded, though, as no one was waiting for him on the ground floor.

Stepping cautiously out of the elevator, Damas couldn't help but second guess his decision to sneak out of the Palace. He stopped just outside the elevator, knowing that he still had a choice to turn around and forget his rash foolishness.

"Hey, you!" A harsh voice called down the hall.

Turning quickly to his interloper, Damas tried to keep a guilty look off his face, which he was sure he failed miserably at. A big, burly Haven City Police officer approached him, looking very stern. Damas was convinced that he was a dead man.

"Those elevators are off limits; get out of here you little punk!" The man bellowed.

Damas blanched, he hadn't been recognized, and the man thought he was trying to sneak in the Palace, not out! Damas tried to stammer out an apology, but at another unyielding look from the officer, he turned on his heel and walked a little faster than normal to the large door that was his key to freedom.

The night air was cool and refreshing to his flushed face. Taking some slow, deep breaths, Damas tried to control his fast beating heart, while not slowing his pace, just in case that guard decided not to let him go.

Damas blended in easily with a nearby crowd, letting his feet take them where they will. Once he was a safe distance from the Palace, it finally hit him that he hadn't managed to get caught, and that he was free to do what he wanted for a few hours. He had managed to do what he had been dreaming about subconsciously for months. Now there was only one problem—

What exactly did normal teens do?

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**Author's Notes:** As always, review, review, review! It inspires me :)


	2. Exploration

_**The Prince of Haven, Chapter Two, Exploration. **_

The freedom was exhilarating to young Damas, even though he hadn't the slightest idea what to do with it. The mere fact that he, and only he, had complete control over his life for the next few hours was more intoxicating that the prospect of being caught outside the Palace placed minimal worry on his mind.

The many people he passed in the streets could have been nothing more than thieves and cut-throats for all Damas knew, but he regarded them with a humble respect. They had complete control over their own destinies, whether they understood and appreciated it or not. It seemed strange to Damas that people considered royalty as having all the power, true, they had control over large political aspects of the city, but it never really filtered down to the day-to-day aspects that the people of Haven City knew. At least as far as Damas could tell.

Roaming freely down the streets, Damas just took in the sights and sounds around him. The city was alive with people and lights. Many people gathered around the entrances to nightclubs and bars. Others were about for their own reasons. Damas wandered around, not really looking for anything in particular. He was lost in his own awe for the city he had always lived in, but never really seen.

It almost seemed a travesty to be a future king of a place and to never have fully seen it other than high above from the Palace windows. How could a king claim sincerity of his concern for the people when he had never been among them?

His father had been among the people, to the dismay of the city council, but had never offered the same privilege to his son. There was some grumblings among the council members about the unorthodox methods Theron employed to reach his populace; some even publically voiced their ire. Frankly, Damas couldn't understand why his father put up with the council and their old ways. Why didn't his father simply dissolve the council and have more honest dealings with the people of the city rather than the politicians?

Damas pushed all the political thoughts from his mind, he could think about them later, but how often would he be able to go outside the Palace walls? Politics could wait.

Fully taking in his surroundings, Damas looked for anything of interest.

It didn't take him long to reach the Port. The open water spread out until it reached the outer defensive wall, making it look like a murky pond. The buildings in this area were clean and well kept, despite the endless stream of wind blowing more filth from the sea.

A group of teens about Damas' age caught his eye. They were a short distance ahead of him, walking and being rowdy. The one in the front, which Damas took to be the leader, donned a new, clean Haven City Police uniform. The blue fabric was crisp and neat, and the young man seemed very proud of it. By the look of him, he couldn't be much older than Damas himself.

Damas took to following them, hoping that they would lead them to a place where young adults gathered and interacted. It would make it easier to locate such a place with someone leading the way.

Keeping close, but also trying not to be obvious, Damas followed the young boys around the large Port, until they disappeared into a bar. Damas looked at the place, not knowing if he should enter. The large iridescent sign above the door read "The Hip Haven," which, Damas hoped, meant it was open to all young people. If he had to be on a list to enter, he may find himself escorted out rather quickly.

Swallowing his uncertainty before he was forced to retreat back to the Palace, Damas moved forward into the youth bar. He had only so much time before he was discovered missing and he wasn't going to spend what little time he had worrying about what he should or shouldn't do. He had already risked his father's and the Council's ire by leaving the Palace without a bodyguard or escort, so how much _more_ trouble could he get into for entering a public establishment?

The door rose up above him as he stepped forward, and Damas was met with loud, rhythmic music, flashing lights, and a large crowd of people dancing in the center of the establishment and drinking around the bar and in the booths. Moving around the large dance floor, Damas found an empty booth near the more-lighted area near the bar. The pounding music that the youth were so fond of wasn't quite as loud, and the extra lighting allowed Damas to look around.

It didn't take long for him to spot the group that he had followed; they were in the corner opposite him, playing a game of pool, seemingly oblivious to everyone else in the place. Most of the people were dancing in twos, while some others broke off from the group and hid in the dark booths and corners of the establishment for their individual pursuits. Not that the owner condoned their actions, the servers occasionally came around to break the couples up, one pair even being escorted out, but the place was too busy to keep their efforts up.

It was a clean and classy place for the youth of Haven to have some fun, but some of the characters in the place didn't reflect on that, especially when the place was so busy. One bonus to the place being so crowded, in Damas' mind, was that it would make him harder to recognize.

Suddenly Damas was aware of a presence standing over him leeringly. Glancing up, Damas was surprised to find the leader of the group, dressed in his blue uniform, which he had followed looking down at him disapprovingly.

"You following us?" He sneered rudely, leaning on his cue stick.

Glancing ruefully to the leader's snickering friends still at the pool table, Damas realized that he had been caught and that he wasn't sure what to say about it.

Thankfully, an interruption saved him some time to answer. A young server greeted him and asked if he wanted anything to drink, but before he could place an order the young brute in the blue uniform pushed the man away.

"Can't you see we're busy here?" He challenged the server to say something about it. The young server scurried away from the uniformed man's anger.

Damas decided he didn't like the man.

Once the server had been disposed of, the man sat across from Damas, still holding on to his pool stick. "I noticed you following us, creep, so what do you think I'm going to do about it?"

His initial description of the man being a brute seemed quite on target. Now he was using threats to get Damas to confess. Damas just hoped that he could talk him out of whatever action the man was planning to take, whether it was beat him up or call the Haven Police.

Again, Damas was saved the trouble of taking action, for another interruption came in the form of a beautiful young woman. The man across from him clenched his hands in irritation, right until his eyes shifted to the girl's form.

"Is there a problem here?" She asked politely.

With a lecherous look and a charming grin, the man stood, not taking his eyes off her. He stood a good four inches taller than her, easily dwarfing her small and delicate form. "No, my _friend _and I were just having a serious conversation."

"I don't like people being rude and roughing up the servers in the Hip Haven," she said warningly, but not harshly, unlike the man's handling of the poor server just minutes before.

With a look that seemed genuinely sincere, he spoke apologetically. "I beg your pardon, miss, I just came from my shift at the Palace, and I must say that I usually am pretty standoffish after a hard day's work." Was it Damas' imagination, or did the man puff his chest out with pride, trying to impress her?

"I will remind you that all the server was doing was his job. He works, just like you and I, and you didn't make his day too easy for him either." Again her words weren't harsh or accusatory, but somehow appealing to the man's better nature.

"I believe I haven't made your day too easy, either. Please allow me to make it up to you? Can I take you to dinner? It would make me feel much better about this whole mess that I caused."

Damas was shocked at the man's blatant use of charm and words to twist the whole situation into a way of asking the woman out. He was more than a simple brute; he was smart and manipulative as well.

A small smile broke through her serious demeanor, "What's your name?"

"Praxis," he answered easily, the charming grin still plastered on his face.

"Well, Praxis, I am afraid it isn't me you must make it up to. Should I tell Brian that you wish to take him to dinner for treating him so rudely?"

At the blank look on Praxis' face, the girl's face lit with a smile. Apparently Praxis wasn't the only one who had a way with words.

"What are you laughing at?" Praxis bellowed to his friends, who, obviously, had overheard the exchange and began laughing hysterically at his failed attempt at acquiring a date from over near the pool table.

"I hope we don't have such…an exchange between you and the staff like that again," the woman said politely, once again.

"Of course not," Praxis said politely, in turn, trying to keep face. Without another word, he left to join his friends across the room.

The girl's shocking blue eyes then turned to Damas. He was suddenly overcome by her beauty. He rarely ever was around women his own age, unless one counted the snobbish daughters of the Council members.

He was at a loss at what to say.

"I hope we don't have any more trouble," she spoke to him, not sure if he had any part in the struggle earlier. Her eyes were intent, but not accusing.

"No, no," Damas blurted out, not wanting to be connected to the brute Praxis. "I won't cause you any trouble," he answered soberly and with complete sincerity.

Obviously sensing that he wasn't acting, as Praxis was, she smiled with great warmth. Damas was relieved that she didn't think of him as a friend of Praxis, which, judging by the glare coming from across the room, Praxis was eager to "befriend" him as soon as he left the bar.

Damas thought it was better to take his leave, rather than for Praxis and his goons to be waiting for him outside. At least he'd have a chance to get away if he had a head start. It would be rather hard for him to explain how he got a black eye to his parents from the comfort and safety of his own room.

"I'm afraid that I must go," Damas spoke low, knowing that Praxis and his friends would no doubt be trying to overhear, "I don't think my… _friend _is too happy with me."

The young woman laughed, "And why is that?"

"He thinks I'm following him," he answered. Thought it was, in fact, true, he _had_ followed him, but not for any shady or despicable reason. Praxis probably blamed him for the loss of a possible date, as well.

"I must get back to work," the girl laughed again, turning and heading back to the bar.

Once she had gone, Damas took great care in getting lost in the large, crowded dance floor. After he was sure that Praxis and his friends had lost sight of him, Damas slipped out the door into the Port.

It didn't take much time to make it to the large, well lit Palace. The large blue spires were alight, standing far above the rest of the city. After a close call when trying to get to one of the service elevators, Damas was safe and sound in his room. He slept better that night than he had in the longest time.

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**Author's Notes:** Okay, another chapter finished. I hope it wasn't too obvious who the man in the bar was... I tried to make it a surprise, so tell me if I succeeded! And thanks to AlterEgoSadist and silveremerald202 for reviewing!


	3. A Challenge

_**The Prince of Haven, Chapter Three, A Challenge.**_

Damas awoke early the next morning, feeling fully rested and ready to take on the day. The adventure of the day before had filled him with a wonderment that now occupied his thoughts into the next. Nothing too exciting had happened, compared to normal standards, but then again, being normal wasn't normal in Damas' life. For once he had a choice of what he wished to do, and felt more alive because of it. All the other years of his life almost made him feel like a robot compared to the little time he spent outside the Palace walls.

Throwing the covers off himself, Damas headed for the shower, falling easily into his morning routine. Feeling full of energy, instead of his usual grogginess, Damas took less time getting ready for the day's lessons.

Heading into the dining hall, Damas was surprised to find that his father was missing from the head of the table. His mother was sitting there in stead, and rose when her son entered the room. She was dressed in her usual elegant fashion, a delicate smile warming her face. Queen Alma was well beloved by the people of Haven City. Her benevolent and caring nature was evident just by her presence.

"Damas, I was worried you wouldn't be joining me this morning. You didn't come to dinner last night, so I feared that you had taken ill," her eyes darkened in concern for a moment.

"I was just tired," he reassured her. It was strange not having his father at breakfast, it was the one meal of the day that they usually had together on a regular basis. It was the other meals of the day which he took absence too, usually working through them. "Where's father?" Damas couldn't help but ask as he sat down at the opposite end of the large table.

His mother smiled in reply, "I had to nearly force him to take the day off, he's been fighting off sickness and fatigue for nearly a week now, so some rest will do him good." Sitting down again, Damas' mother motioned for the morning meal to be served.

The servants entered, bringing each of them a large plate of food. Damas started to eat with a hunger that had evaded him for so long, and he was sure that it had nothing to do with the fact that he had skipped dinner the night before.

Once the meal was over and he has spoke some with his mother, Damas left for his daily lessons.

Again, his thoughts were interrupted with imagining the night before. He did his studies, but didn't really put forth all of his effort. It was just another day, he decided not long after breakfast. His teacher dismissed him, irritated at his lack of focus.

His mother found him not to long after that. "Is something wrong Damas?" She asked; her voice full of concern.

"No, I just can't seem to focus today," he admitted.

"You're not getting sick, are you?" She felt her son's forehead. "You feel fine, but maybe you should get some rest so you don't get sick like your father."

Damas gratefully took the offered excuse and headed to his chambers.

After reaching his room, he dressed, hid his blonde hair under his cap, and quickly made his way to street level. This time there were no major mishaps.

Unlike the previous night, today it was mid-afternoon, with the sun high up in the sky. The warm sun radiated everything, giving it a pleasant heat. The bright light was a major change to Damas's previous outing in the city.

Walking in a separate direction than the time before, Damas headed for the large racing stadium. During this time of day, it was possible that some amateur races were going on, which could be entertaining. Besides, it was the only thing Damas could think to do, and following someone to another destination didn't seem like a good idea after what happened the other night.

Upon reaching the grand stadium, Damas could hear the cheers of fans and the roars of zoomer engines. He paid the small fee to enter the stadium and headed for the stands. He walked out to the enormous circling seats, making a large bowl around the center attraction. The racing track made an elegant path in the arena below, and small racing zoomers that looked more like silver blurs traced the track at top speed. The stands were only half full, suggesting it could be early in the season.

Damas found an empty seat and watched. There were sixteen racers on the track, each fighting for first place. It looked like an exhilarating passion to have; Damas could imagine how it felt to race. The wind rushing past you, the powerful engine humming underneath you like a primal growl, it must be exciting, and quite challenging.

"Do you race?"

The close proximity of the voice startled Damas. Looking behind him, he found its owner. It was a young man, probably Damas's age, with sleek black hair. He was one row behind him, sitting and watching the races as well.

"No, do you?"

The man leaned forward, breaking his leisurely posture. "I've been known to. I take it you just follow the game?"

"No, not really."

Forgetting normality, the man stepped over the seating and took a seat beside Damas. He held out his hand, "I'm Lamar."

"Draven," Damas answered with the first name he came up with, "nice to meet you."

"So, why are you here if you don't follow the sport?" He asked, releasing Damas's hand.

"Just thought I'd check it out," Damas answered with the same leisure that Lamar used.

"You're lucky you came in before the start of the season, this is just practice races before the preliminaries. If you're a betting man, this is the best time to check out potential bets."

"No, I don't bet."

Lamar laughed, "Most people are drawn to the sport for the gambling, and not many people understand what it's like down there. It transcends money."

"Well, well, well, perhaps I can kill two birds with one stone," an unwanted voice spouted.

Damas gritted his teeth at his poor luck, turning to greet the blue-uniformed carcass of his unwanted guest.

"What are you doing here, Lamar?" Praxis demanded, pointing his police baton at him.

"Watching the races, of course," Lamar said with the same casualness of tone as always, which, of course, irritated Praxis.

"And you," he said with a deliberate forcefulness as he pointed at Damas, "I think I owe you a "thanks" for the crap you pulled last night—"

"—No need to abuse your power on our account," Lamar cut off Praxis, irritating him further, "we were just leaving."

"Yeah, I'll see you around," Praxis warned to their leaving forms.

Lamar laughed again, "So, my friend, what did you do to get your name on Praxis' shit list?"

"What does anybody do to get on his list?" Damas asked, bewildered at why the Haven City Police would allow such an aggressive person on the force.

Lamar laughed again, "That is too true. You look at him wrong and he automatically deems you an enemy."

"What did you do to anger him?" Damas asked.

"He was being all cocky about his racing skills, so I challenged him to a race and beat him handily. His hurt pride never got over it."

Damas couldn't help but laugh; he could decide quickly the character of a person. Lamar seemed like someone he could get along with. He was a laidback person, but could be serious if the situation called for it.

"Wanna go to where the real fun is?" Lamar asked.

"And where is that?"

"It's where some of us gather to race for the fun of it, no betting allowed. You can even give it a try if you like. It's like an amateur racing ring."

"Sure."

Quickly acquiring zoomers, Lamar led the way to the Port. Flying out over the water, they landed amidst a small group of people who were gathered on the large pathway amid the water. "Hey, Lamar, are you going to race today?"

"I'll get in on the next one," he answered his friend as he walked over. "Oran, this is Draven, Draven, meet Oran."

Damas shook hands. "You going to race too?" Oran asked.

"Um…"

"Go ahead and give it a try, we're all friends here. If not you could watch if you like, the next race is about to start." Lamar informed Damas.

Four zoomers perched on the platform, their drivers waiting for the signal of the start of the race. One person stood beside them with an arm raised. When his arm dropped, the zoomers took off and dropped down to the water below, racing off over the water.

"Is this legal?" Damas asked as he watched the racers circle a buoy and start racing back.

"If it wasn't would we be doing it in broad daylight?" Oran laughed.

"It's allowed as long as we don't use racing zoomers, and we do it over the water. The public transit zoomers have a limit of how fast they can go built in, so they are safer, unlike traditional racing zoomers, which practically is a seat strapped to a high-powered engine. And it's safer if we do it over the water, there are less obstacles and if someone happens to fall off they only get wet instead of a broken skull," Lamar elaborated.

Damas nodded as he watched the race end. A young red and brown haired boy won, gloating jokingly over his friends. One pushed him, and he fell the two feet into the water below, making everyone laugh. He resurfaced and laughed as well.

"Everyone lineup if you want in on this round," Oran bellowed.

The laughing friends maneuvered their zoomers back on the platform. "You coming, Draven?" Lamar asked with a friendly challenge in his eyes.

Damas accepted the silent challenge and climbed on his dormant zoomer, starting it up and lining up on the platform next to Lamar. This time there were six people vying for first place. Oran raised an arm to simulate the starting flag. "ON YOUR MARK, GET SET, GO!"

His arm dropped, officially starting the race.

Damas leaned closer to his zoomer as he pressed on the gas, to become more streamline. He dropped off the platform, getting splashed by small amounts of moisture as the power of the engine hit the surface of the water. His hat flew off at the sudden burst of speed.

Glancing up at the buoy in the distance, Damas made sure he was going as fast as his zoomer would allow. He spared a second to check his standing. He was in third place. Since the zoomers go all the same speed, whoever took off the soonest after the start of the race got in their current positions. This made the people in the race have to rely on skill to gain ground rather than speed.

Damas steered towards the buoy, trying to get as close to is as possible to gain some ground. His two opponents were just ahead of him, he was so close that small sprinkles of water saturated in his locks of hair, and landed in a cool rush on his face. The speed was just as exhilarating as he had imagined.

When he reached the buoy, just seconds after the two ahead of him, Damas slammed on the brakes and leaned into the turn, cutting off the time he needed to maneuver. Pressing back on the accelerator, Damas shot forward and overtook the two ahead of him.

It was a quick run back to the platform, Damas achieving victory.

Lamar pulled up beside him and laughed. "Nice job, rookie!"

"Lamar, it looks like your winning streak is over," Oran called down to them jokingly.

Damas maneuvered his way up to the platform, stepping down from the zoomer. Everyone followed, laughing and joking. Damas had never felt such excitement before; he rose to a challenge and succeeded.

"Hey, you dropped your hat," a feminine voice said. Damas turned to see the green-haired girl from the bar the night before, holding out his hat to him. Damas took it and placed it back over his blonde curls. Now he could ask her name…

An arm appeared around his shoulders, "I want a rematch," Lamar interrupted, "just to be sure it wasn't beginner's luck."

Damas just laughed, and the mystery server from the bar smiled her brilliant smile.

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**Author's Notes:** My litany: Tell me what you think of this chapter please! Review!


	4. Discovered

_**The Prince of Haven, Chapter Four, Discovered.**_

The sun was lower in the sky when the group had decided they had had enough racing for one day. Damas won two more races, and Lamar won three, ending up in a tie that was mutually accepted. Damas also got introduced to the other members of the group. The red and brown haired boy who was pushed into the water when Damas arrived was named Cade. He was another good friend of Lamar and Oran's. The girl racer, who had red hair and a less out-going attitude, was named Tera, and the third racer that Damas met in the group was named Brook.

The whole group seemed like nice people, much better than those he met the day before. Praxis and his cronies were far from the ideal group to cross paths with. He also learned the name of the beautiful light green-haired woman, Jaida.

After they all finished racing, they decided to go to the Hip Haven to get something to eat. They all sat in a large booth near the bar, talking and waiting for their ordered food to arrive.

"Draven, have you considered racing in the preliminaries? You have natural talent, and with some practice I'm sure you could beat the seasoned racers."

After a moment of silence, Oran gave Damas a friendly flick to his long ear, who was in conversation with Lamar. Damas jolted, angry at himself for forgetting to answer to his fake name. If he wasn't more cautious he may be found out, but would they treat him any different? It wasn't a risk he was willing to take at the time. He was content to be in their company as an equal, no need for titles or formality.

"No, I haven't considered racing," Damas answered Oran finally. Though Damas thought it could be fun, win or lose, but the publicity revolving around the event would surely get him caught.

"You should, Draven, the prizes if you get to the upper divisions are incredible," Oran persisted.

Damas just shook his head. When Oran seemed to try and insist, Lamar placed a brotherly arm across Damas' shoulders, "Stop badgering him Oran, he, like myself, is one of the few that appreciate racing for more than the glory and reward."

Oran leaned back in his chair in defeat, sighing heavily. "Besides," Lamar continued, taking his drink from the counter, "those people who like to call themselves professional racers tend to have 'accidents' when it comes to the big races."

"What do you mean?" Damas asked, now interested.

"Well," Lamar leaned forward, "there have been some suspicious dropouts in the final races in the last few seasons due to mechanical problems. One can only assume that some of the racers are trying to come out on top, and are willing to cheat to get there. They are a blight to true racers," Lamar shook his head, "they are in it for profit, not sport."

Cade laughed heartily, his hair still a mess from being pushed into the water during the races, "You refer to racing as if it was a religion!"

Everyone had a good laugh at their table. Once their food arrived, they talked some more over a warm meal.

As he talked with his new friends, Damas felt the anxiety slowly building. Every time he ventured out from the Palace he risked being caught, and though it was desirable to spend every spare moment out and about with his friends, if he was found out he wouldn't be able to leave the Palace at all.

Damas knew he would have to leave soon, but couldn't quite find the drive to leave the company of his new friends.

"I've got to be going everyone," Jaida said as she rose from the table, "see you all later."

Damas stood up as well, deciding that he should take the opening and leave too. "Yeah, I need to be getting back."

After saying goodbye to everyone at the table, Damas and Jaida walked out of the Hip Haven and onto the street. The sky was overcast now; storm clouds were quickly blowing in from the sea, shattering the warm weather from earlier that day. The wind was picking up, and the streets were nearly empty in anticipation of the coming gale. The salty air blowing in from the ocean was cool and refreshing, compared to the warm atmosphere of the Hip Haven.

"So, what do you do besides hang out in the Hip Haven?" Jaida asked Damas pleasantly, breaking the awkward silence between them. Damas couldn't help but think that she was given her name from her hair; the rich green color was a mirror of the mineral for which she was named.

"This and that," Damas answered vaguely, thinking that if he gave hardly any details, the less chance he had of messing up. "What about you, what do you do when you aren't working at the Haven?"

"I occasionally help my father in his garage in the Stadium. Nothing too exciting," she laughed.

The wind suddenly picked up, blowing a wave of dust and pieces of abandoned trash into their faces. Damas coughed, tasting the dust on his tongue. The air billowed restlessly; not looking like it was going to stop until the squall had passed.

"We'd better get going before it starts raining!" Jaida had to call over the howling winds. They took off in a jog, running as far as they could in the same direction, until their separate destinations tore them apart. Damas waved as he was forced to turn down a street leading to the Palace. Jaida laughed, though he couldn't hear it over the wind, as the wind whipped her hair into her face.

Damas continued to run until he reached the safety of the Palace walls, the rain had just started, the sound of pounding moisture reverberated off the plate glass that protected them from the elements. Once safe from the weather, Damas noticed the extra guards on patrol duty. The elation of the events of the day washed away as quickly as the heavy rain washed away the filth from the streets. A seething guilt gripped his heart, aware of what was going on the instant a squad of Heaven City Police passed him on high alert.

His room had been found empty.

Damas quickly backed into a vacant hall, trying to get a hold over his breathing. Shame filled him, focused in a painful mass in his gut, moving a tortuous trail up to his heart. How would he explain his disappearance to his father? Nothing could sway the feeling that Damas knew what would happen, he would have to tell his parents the truth, and deal with the consequences of his foolish actions. Damas knew that the look of disappointment and worry mirrored in his parents' eyes would be punishment enough for his slightly reckless side, but he also knew he deserved whatever punishment his father gave.

He knew he couldn't get complete control of the harsh beating of his heart, but made his way through the Police that were patrolling the halls. His reached the elevator, having to wait outside it for a few minutes while some guards watched him suspiciously. The air in the Palace seemed a sharp contrast to the norm. Instead of the aura of disciplined schedules and structured atmosphere, the air seemed to be filled with an anxious high, fearful for the absent prince. Damas tried to hold the guilt inside as the elevator purred, but to no avail. The responsibility of the entire city's worry wore down on him like a tangible weight pressing down on his shoulders. What a ruler he would make…

Much sooner than his coward side would like, the elevators engines died, announcing his arrival on the top floor, but Damas didn't move at first. Was it so bad that he wished for some normalcy in his life? Though Damas tried to find some inadequate excuses to defend himself, he felt no better because he knew his parents expected more from him. Not allowing his less-than-noble side to delay the inevitable any longer, he exited the service elevator and entered the violent storm that couldn't compare to the one within himself.

The rain came down in vicious torrents, the wind slapping the cold moisture to his very core and drenching him instantly. His light clothes were no barrier to the unforgiving storm. The precarious walk from the service elevator to his window was even more dangerous when gripped in the midst of such a rainstorm.

The wind was even worse this high above the city's walls, it howled like banshees screaming for vengeance. He could barely hear the splashing of his own footprints over it. Damas glanced to the buildings below; the lights seemed distorted, as if looking through smog, when in actuality it was because of the heavy rain.

Damas was blown away by how quickly the storm had landed over the peaceful Haven City. It was as if the last twenty-four hours was two separate days, divided at the drastic change from sunny and warm to the storm. He tried to keep the pleasant memories close, for he knew that today would be his last jaunt of freedom.

"Stop where you are and put your hands up!" A harsh voice bellowed intertwining with the wind so much that Damas was nearly convinced he had fabricated it himself_, nearly._

He froze, as instructed, knowing that when the Police were on high alert that any suspicious behavior would be harshly retaliated, and when in a restricted area within the Palace during such a time, Damas was glad that this guard decided not to shoot first and ask questions later. Damas' heart beat all the faster.

Footsteps splashed louder and louder, approaching Damas from behind. A jab in the back let Damas know that he was in serious trouble. "Turn around!" The guard ordered.

Damas turned his face towards the terrible wind, which ripped the hat from his head and disappeared into the black and purple storm, just like his secret life was now lost. Standing before him with a blaster pointed at Damas' chest was Maddux, his personal body guard.

The barrel of the weapon dropped to the ground as his old friend and protector recognized him. Damas couldn't help the shame the colored his face as he watched the shock and anger filter through Maddux's hard expression. "Where have you been?"

His voice was accusatory; the vivid harshness over the sounds of the storm was more a slap to the face than a question. Damas tried to recover from the severity of Maddux's biting remark, but it wasn't so easy. "I'm sorry I've been sneaking out of the Palace…"

The startled look on Maddux's face stopped Damas from continuing his apologies.

"Do you have any idea what's been going on?"Maddux asked, his voice more shocked than enraged.

Damas thought it better to not emphasize his ignorance, a sense of foreboding tainting the atmosphere.

"There has been an attempt on King Theron's life."

A thunder clap echoed in the clouds above, sounding eerily like drums of war.

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**Author's notes:** Yay! I like this chapter, not much editing needed for it. AAPR (As Always, Please Review) :)


	5. Change

_**The Prince of Haven, Chapter Five, Changes.**_

If Damas had been feeling guilt before, it was nothing like this. The painful emotions turned into a blade, cutting an excruciating trail around his heart, leaving a seemingly physical wound behind. "Is father alright?" He asked, breathless from the clenching in his chest.

Maddux was wary, Damas just realizing how tired and worn his old friend looked. "He'll survive, but it was such a shock. We didn't think the underground crime syndicate was so powerful or bold to pull an attempt like this, and when I found your room empty, I feared the worst."

The disgrace formed a lump in Damas' throat, swallowing, he attempted to speak around it. "I've been in no danger…"

Maddux's harsh stare silenced his assurances. "If the crime ring found a way to infiltrate the Palace, there is good reason to believe that they know you've been sneaking out of the Palace. You deliberately broke traditions and needlessly placed yourself in harm's way. Your father pledged me to guard you the day you were born, not merely because you are the crown prince, but to protect you from your father's political enemies. Though you are not completely ignorant to Theron's troubles with the council, you are foolishly unaware of how deep they go, which was your father's intent. But after the events against your father, he cannot possibly keep you uninformed any longer. Come with me, and stay close."

Damas was shocked into silence, he fell into step behind Maddux in a haze, trying to let what information he learned sink in…

The window into Damas' private quarters was still open, Maddux climbed in first and took to looking around for any possible danger, making Damas realize just how foolish he had been how he could still be in danger. After a thorough check of the premises, Maddux turned back to Damas.

"Get changed, I'll be outside to escort you to the throne room."

The instant the door closed Damas flopped onto his bed warily, holding his face in his hands.

What had he done? His parents must have been in hysterics after the attack, perhaps thinking he had been taken prisoner by the usurpers, or worse. He was the sole heir to the throne, and had abandoned his post and responsibilities for a pathetic attempt at normalcy. All this time he had been wasting, dreaming of a normal life that would never be his. He had dreamt of abandoning his royal blood, blood of the great hero Mar, in his deepest daydreams just to keep himself from responsibilities. His own fear of being an inadequate ruler compared to the great job his father and his father's father had done before him left him steeped in a shame he felt he could never escape.

Damas straitened his back, pulling at a store of will he had never known he had. The time had passed for self-pity and doubt. Today, he would face the responsibilities of his actions, then try and help track down the people who were responsible for the assassination attempt on his father. It was time for him to be the prince he was supposed to be, or at least try.

Stepping from the bed, Damas approached his closet and chose an outfit.

He dressed quickly and entered the hallway. There were three other guards besides Maddux, wearing the normal Haven City Police uniform, but on the left sleeve was a badge that distinguished them as the best and most trusted of all the ranks of Police. The badge was a small symbol of Mar, with weapons crossing before it, naming them the Royal Guard. They fell into step around him, while Maddux took the lead.

Damas noticed all the extra guards patrolling the corridors, seemingly anxious with their suspicious looks. The Palace was on high alert, meaning that anyone caught in the Palace was immediately arrested and questioned. The Palace was shut down, allowing no one in or out hoping to catch the one responsible. Damas knew from Maddux's words that they weren't too hopeful to find anything, if they came in without setting off any alarms, it was probably just as easy for them to escape unscathed.

Just from that information Damas could assume a lot. If the culprits could enter the Palace without being spotted, it seemed a likely possibility that they had someone on the inside to help them. Or another equally disturbing possibility was that the person who orchestrated the attack had wealth, enough so to forge very official looking passes and Police uniforms. How much had changed for Damas in the last half hour? He couldn't be sure, but the world around him seemed like a more dangerous and unforgiving place than it had earlier in the day, or the last seventeen years of his life.

They entered the throne room; inside was full of Police with the Royal Guard patch sewn into their sleeves. Only the most trusted and tested of all the guard would be near the King during such a time.

Damas bowed before his father, feeling the formality was necessary.

"My son!" Theron called, obviously relieved. He got unsteadily to his feet. It was then that Damas felt his heart was submerged in a boiling vat of oil. His father looked warn far past his years. Theron approached him; he clutched his side and grimaced, mid-stride, then continued forward to hug his son in relief.

Damas felt the need to apologize, but also felt the word "sorry" just wouldn't help ease the guilt, nor take away the anxiety he had placed on his father.

Damas hugged his father back, trying to hide the shock he felt at seeing his condition. Theron was pale and the lines around his face were more pronounced. His eyes seemed sunken into his skull, and the fact his face was creased in worry added to the skeleton-like effect. The sickness had ravaged his body much worse than Damas' earlier conversation with his mother had implied. Was it only a few days ago that his father was healthy and had no signs of weakness? The transformation was so complete that it made it seem like his father was a different person. His guilt was suddenly overshadowed by a much more vile and burning emotion, anger. Hot, intense anger at anyone who would do such a thing to a great ruler, his _father_.

Once he broke the embrace, Theron walked warily back to his throne, letting himself collapse into it. Damas tried to swallow the ever-growing lump in his throat.

Queen Alma rested her hand over her husband's, trying to give some comfort. She smiled at her son, trying to soothe him as well.

"Much has changed," Theron shook his head, his voice sounded just as tired as he looked.

The silence prevailed for several minutes, while Damas waiting for someone to continue.

"You'll have to forgive us, my son," Queen Alma spoke, "and I must tell you that we only kept this from you in an attempt to keep you safe and secure as you grew up." She squeezed her husband's hand, willing him to continue.

"Things will be changing for you today; you will be forced to see the ways of the Royal Family and the City Council in a new light, and also to see enemies where you thought there were none before." Theron sighed, "Perhaps we shouldn't have kept you so sheltered for so long, but we only wished for you to be happy."

Damas felt the anxiety grip his heart, for he knew that things would be permanently different with how he saw the actions of those around him, but he also felt slightly irritated at himself for not realizing, for managing to keep himself ignorant for all this time, but it was nothing compared to the anger he felt. He would help capture the people responsible for the attack on his father. Perhaps it wasn't normal for the crowned prince to take part in such investigations, but he would take a more active roll in the day to day activities of the Palace, and this is where he was going to start.

"Tell me everything," Damas spoke, feeling ready to carry the burden that had long been held by others, a burden he had been kept ignorant to.

Theron nodded, "What do you know about the Council?"

"There are seven elder members, all belonging to bloodlines that tie back to the Council that Mar founded in his own time. Then there are other, less powerful members who have joined as well over the centuries."

"Precisely," Theron gave a weak smile at the knowledge that his son brought forth. "And over the years the only thing that has changed with the council is their numbers, that, and their…_resistance_ to change."

"What do you mean?"

"The attack today is proof that some members on the council feel that speaking their opinions is not enough, someone felt that action was needed. The result…" Theron looked down to the heavy bandages around his middle.

"How can the council members be tied to this? What could they possibly have against you to warrant such anarchy?" Damas queried.

"You remember the story of how I inherited the throne?" Theron asked.

Damas remembered it well. Theron had an older brother, Liam, who died not long after being crowned. His transport had been lost over the wasteland on a diplomatic mission to Kras City. Wastelanders who scour the lands had been blamed. Those who had been banished from the city in generations past took revenge on the young king, so the crown had passed to the next son, Theron.

"Yes, of course."

"There were a few on the council that believed I orchestrated the event, causing my brother's death so I could take the throne for myself," Theron's voice was bitter as he spoke those words.

"That's outrageous, how could they think such a thing, let alone accuse you of it?" Damas demanded.

"Needless to say, they couldn't prove such a claim," Theron continued. "There are those among my guard," he gestured to the trusted men in the room, "who felt that the council members accused me so that my right to the throne would be forfeit, so another bloodline would be chosen."

Damas remembered the law set down by Mar over two centuries ago. He was a clever man, and set down ways to make sure that no corrupt leader took the throne. Mar created the council to balance out the power in the city, and in the event of foul play involving a member of his own bloodline; the council would choose another bloodline to continue to rule, free from corruption.

"So they accused you for a chance to become the ruling family of Haven?" Damas asked.

"It's a possibility," Theron answered.

If most of the City Council was corrupt, it wouldn't be hard to get enough votes to a bloodline that functioned on greed. Mar's laws worked on the assumption that it was possible for _his_ bloodline to become corrupt, but what if the city council was the corrupt factor? Perhaps he didn't think that one through to the end.

"But Maddux mentioned that the crime syndicate is involved," Damas put forth into the conversation, "how do they tie into all of this?"

"At first there was no tie between the increased movements of the crime ring and the unsettled nature of the council, but just a few months ago, Captain Aldus," Theron gestured to the decorated solider at his right, "found a connection. He found a house where part of the crime ring was stationed, and after the bust was over, he found very suspicious papers that had been passed between a member or members of the council and the leader of the crime ring."

"Whomever is behind this, they are smart," Captain Aldus spoke now, his voice certain and hard. "They never used any names, the only reason we know that someone in the council is responsible is from questioning the criminals we caught, who no longer felt obliged to keep their mouths shut. They are just puppets, not even knowing their master's name, the only thing they knew about their master was he had power and wealth, and worked at the City Council."

"What is there to do?" Damas asked.

Theron looked into his son's eyes. "We must find who is behind this. We cannot dare to take any information to the council without hard proof, and we need to make sure we get information on anyone connected to the situation. If we make a move and not know who all is behind the attempt at the throne, they could bide their time and try again. This is a very desperate situation, our hands are tied and I cannot make any move without solid evidence." The king shook his head, wary and frustrated.

Damas feared to ask, but knew it was on the minds of everyone in the room. "What if the entire council is against us?"

Theron shook his head sadly, keeping silent for a minute. "Then I fear I must take action to save the city from dishonest politicians. Mar gave the Royal Family the power to dissolve the council in the event proof of misdeeds could be found against the entire council. It would put me in complete control of the city, I wouldn't answer to anyone."

Damas sensed how his father felt about that course of action. "You don't want to have to do that." It was a statement, not a question.

"I would only take that action if there were no other options. When I took the throne, there were those in the populous that believed I had killed my own brother for my bid at power, and if I dissolve the council, there would be no doubt in their minds."

Damas knew the pressure his father was under, because of the circumstances of his brother's death he was constantly under suspicion. There were people in the city that believed that he had been a part of King Liam's death, all because of some vicious people's lust for power. His father had to be careful of all his moves, for the council members that wished to have more influence would twist anything he did and use it against him. Whoever had the vote of the people had the power, and it's hard to fight propaganda, for even unfounded words can hurt a ruler's hold of the people's trust. Someone was poised and ready, ready to rip the rightful ruler off the throne and place himself there instead. They couldn't be sure how many people were against them, which made the situation that much worse.

Damas knew one thing; their place in the Palace was being tested. He just had to make sure they rose to the challenge.

They were in a desperate situation, and Damas was determined to help in any way he could.

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**Author's notes**: Yay for another chapter edited! Now to finish writing the next one! Please Review!


	6. Limbo

_**The Prince of Haven, Chapter Six, Limbo.**_

There was much to do, but getting around to reaching goals would be hard. They were in a precarious position, first they had to find evidence of who wanted the king dead, and after everything Damas had heard, the one behind it was smart, so the investigation would prove to be difficult. Second, they had to find hard evidence on anyone and everyone involved, for his father's position with the populace of Haven City was delicate enough without them questioning if he was just looking to incriminate and overthrow the Council for his own gain. And thirdly, to be honest, they had no idea where to start.

_One month has passed_, Damas thought as he walked down the halls, the ever-present Maddux just steps behind him, _and we are no closer to finding the man who tried to kill my father._

It was frustrating to say the least. When Captain Aldus said the criminals were smart, he wasn't exaggerating. Ever since Aldus raided the crime house and found evidence that connected the crime ring and the council a few weeks ago, they hadn't been able to find any leads. They covered their tracks well, and it was giving Damas a headache.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he was out researching on his own, working with his hands and feeling like he was a part of the team, but the only thing he was allowed to do was participate in the meetings. He had to find a way to feel more involved in the investigation of his father's would-be assassin. Perhaps he was expecting too much, hoping that the progress would be faster, but he wasn't going to just wait for another attempt on his father's life.

A part of him knew that the killers would have to get him too if they wanted any chance at the throne, but he felt no fear for himself.

He entered the room now designated for the use of the investigation crew. It had taken some convincing on his part to be allowed to help, but he was going to have to take it further if he was to be a benefit to the investigation.

Damas entered the room. Capitan Aldus sat at the head of the table and around him five of his most trusted men.

"Any news?" Damas asked automatically.

Capitan Aldus lifted his head, "The scouts still haven't found anything."

Damas sat down quickly, Maddux right next to him; his presence had been somewhat of an irritant to Damas, but the recent events made it necessary. He felt more like a burden to the investigation rather than an asset.

Aldus was frustrated, but a man of his stature and discipline hid it well. "The syndicate keeps weeding out any spies we plant, several of my men have turned up dead," he spoke with regret. He sighed heavily, the only outward show of the exhaustion he must feel. "I fear there is no doubt, there is a spy within the Palace walls."

If Damas hadn't been so anxious for news, he may have noticed that there were fewer men in the room. Only the most trusted of Aldus' men remained. No one seemed outwardly shocked at Aldus' claim, perhaps they had been thinking the same thing, but didn't wish to voice it themselves. It would help explain how the assassin managed to enter and leave the Palace without drawing attention. Everyone was silent for some time, not sure how to continue.

"Yet another wrench into the zoomer engine," someone muttered.

"I cannot keep sending my men to certain death, so we need to find someone with no connections to the Palace or the Haven City Police. That is our only chance of success in finding our spy, as well as the Council members behind the attempt on King Theron's life."

The meeting adjourned early, since no new evidence had been found. Damas paced in his chambers for a bit, trying to come up with some way to help the situation, but nothing came to mind. A knock on the door broke through his musings.

"Come in," Damas sighed.

Maddux entered with the air of urgency he always had about him since the recent events. "Queen Alma wishes to see you."

Damas nodded and fell into step behind Maddux. He was thankful to Maddux for not telling his parents of his excursions out into the city, for it was one less thing for them to worry about. There was a silent agreement between them, Maddux wouldn't tell, and Damas wouldn't venture out on his own anymore. Damas was glad they kept it a silent agreement.

The lengthy hallway echoed from their feet, sharpening the sense of loneliness Damas felt. The heightened security in the palace kept the people at bay. The corridors filled only with HCP members, ever alert for any sign of danger. Damas found himself wishing that he could be at the Hip Haven with his newfound friends, if only for a few hours to let off some steam.

His parents' chamber was a well-decorated and warm room at the top of the palace with large windows looking out over the city in most directions. The rain clouds still hung over the city, blocking most of the view.

His mother stood before the windows farthest from the door Damas just entered. She looked sad as she looked out over the city, looking as if she were miles away.

"Mother?" Damas prodded gently.

Queen Alma turned sharply, the distant and haunted look in her eyes dissipated as she looked at her only son. "My boy." She said absently as she approached and hugged him.

"How's father doing?" Damas asked, his mother's demeanor caused him to worry.

"As well as can be expected," she answered after a sigh, Damas could see the worry etched into every corner of her face. "His wound was deep, so I've had the physicians move him to the medical facilities."

"Understandable," Damas was at a loss.

"They've got him on supplements of green eco;" Alma continued, "His wound looks clean, and should heal nicely."

"That's good news."

Alma nodded; a distant look entered her eyes.

"Is there something else on your mind, mother?"

Breaking out of her reverie, Alma smiled slowly, "I only wish you hadn't had to inherit the worries of your parents."

"It was bound to happen eventually," Damas smirked.

"Do you resent your parents for it?" His mother asked quietly.

"Of course not," Damas smiled warmly. He wished the knowledge had been passed to him sooner. Feeling sheltered for most of his life was a sensation he didn't revel in.

As Damas exited his mother's chambers; he was drawn into deep thought. Perhaps he hadn't been so vulnerable when he left. His parents had shielded him from the media storm his entire life, so only the people within the walls of the Palace really knew his face.

Over the past few weeks, the thought had been hovering at the edge of his mind. He never fully let himself entertain the idea, but after a month of no results, Damas felt he needed to do something.

It would be foolish for Damas to attempt to join the crime ring as the spy, but what if he went outside the Palace to try and find the help they needed? He could recruit someone to infultrate the crime syndicate, someone with absolutly no links to the Palace or the Haven City Police.

King Theron is well known for his hands-on approach to dealing with matters. Perhaps it is time for Damas to prove to himself that he is his father's son.

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**Author's Notes:** Gah, I hated writing this chapter, so I just decided to end it there. I'm back in the writing game, after FOREVER! I went back and reread this story, and decided I need to finish it. May take a while, but it is going to happen. As always, please review!


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